


Sick and Soda

by HaroThar



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gamzee Makara and Karkat Vantas Moirallegiance, M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Sicfic, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-10 01:34:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5563714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaroThar/pseuds/HaroThar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The prompt was 99.9% immunity! In which one character never gets sick, except when they do. It was requested that I use Gamzee and Karkat with Karkat as the sick one, and how could I say no?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick and Soda

Karkat’s stomach whispered insidiously that knives would feel nicer. Karkat wanted to tell his stomach to go fuck itself, except that was clearly what it was already _doing._ He laid curled on his side, shivering, waste basket propped up on an old cardboard box Gamzee had found and sitting right next to the edge of the couch. Gamzee was out throwing out yet another plastic lining, the third of the evening, and Karkat groaned unhappily.

“Hey, brother,” Gamzee said when he came back into the block. “Your wicked-ass belly done and motherfuckin’ get its chill on yet?”

“No, asshole, and it’s not going to anytime soon,” Karkat grumbled irritably.

“Aw, shit best friend, here I was hopin’ that it’d throw out all the nasty-ass shit and make itself more nice-like for you, like when you throw out the trash and your culinary block smells all not-shitty.”

“Do you even clean out your culinary block often enough to know what that’s like?”

“Ahaha, sure do best friend! Usually only after the shit I throw away starts smellin’ all kinds of motherfuckin’ funny though. Like what makes it do that, brother? Fuck if I know.”

“Of course.” Karkat didn’t want to admit it, but Gamzee’s inane rambling was helping take his mind off the culinary skewers making themselves a hive inside Karkat’s lower gut.

“Now, best friend, I say it’s time for you to drink some fizzy shit. Fizzy shit _always_ is a friend to tummies as ain’t bein’ friendly with you!”

“I am not drinking Faygo,” Karkat said firmly.

“Aiight, brother, more for me, but we gotta get somethin’ with bubbles in that sick motherfucker ‘a yours. Ain’t you never drank soda when you’re sick before?”

“I don’t get sick!” Karkat yelled, his sore throat only made worse by the vomiting from earlier. “This is a bullshit manifestation of the universe’s constant ill-fucking-will towards me, because fuck if I can’t catch one single piss-bug sized-” A wave of nausea overcame Karkat and his face was once again made very personal with the trash can. Gamzee changed the lining, even though hardly anything had even come out, and meandered off to throw the bag away and wash his hands again. He came back with one of Karkat’s glasses, carbonated-something fizzing away inside.

“What is that?” Karkat asked cautiously.

“Sick-ass bubbles for my sick-ass brother, best friend. You need to drink some shit.”

“I need medication is what I need.”

“Oh yeah!” Gamzee said, rifling through his many-colored sylladex. “I got that shit too, brother! Can’t believe I forgot to give this little motherfucker to you!” Gamzee held out a decently sized pill and the glass of still-unknown soda to Karkat. Grumbling, Karkat forced himself upright (ish) on the couch and swallowed the pill and part of the glass.

It was totally Faygo, wasn’t it.

“This swill better not be what I think it is…” Karkat muttered, setting the glass down on the side table and shuffling back to curl under the covers. Why did illness come accompanied with the sensation that he was fucking dying of hypothermia? Was the stomach agony not enough to slake Fate’s insatiable need for his suffering?

“Ahaha, best friend, see the problem was I couldn’t find any soda in your fridge!”

“So you gave me some of yours. Fine. Fuck. Whatever!” 

Karkat noticed that the soda did, in fact, make his stomach at least a little bit less unhappy. Maybe now he could finally fall asleep through it (who the fuck was he even kidding).

Gamzee perched on the armrest of the couch and bent down enough so that he could pet Karkat’s hair and horns.

“Easy, now, best friend. You gotta sleep away this shit, don’tcha know, brother? Like, go out and pay your visits to the stars, make that wicked illness think you’re all up and not home for the motherfucker, it’ll pass right on by.”

Gamzee’s tone was soothing and gravelly, like his words were half-purrs, and his fingers felt great on Karkat’s horns, so with time, Karkat eventually fell asleep.


End file.
